


he will tear your city down

by bratwonders



Series: Comictober [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Dead Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson is Batman, Gen, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Sad Dick Grayson, alfred is trying to be supportive, but he loves bruce, dick hates batman, its complicated, other robins are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27084769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratwonders/pseuds/bratwonders
Summary: In Bruce Wayne's absence, Dick makes a decision.Day 2 of Comictober: Vengeance
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth
Series: Comictober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961182
Kudos: 26





	he will tear your city down

Dick’s first time putting on the Bat-suit is… difficult. It’s too heavy. Nightwing is -- it’s like  _ flying.  _ It’s agile, it’s  _ fun.  _ It’s doing what he loves and  _ loving  _ what he’s doing. Batman…

Batman is nothing but pain. Batman is vengeance, it’s a lifetime of misery in the name of avenging something  _ impossible. _

Bruce’s life after the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne had been nothing short of torture, up until his untimely death.

Dick doesn’t want that — Dick hates that. Dick  _ hates  _ Batman, and he hates this symbol, but he loves his father and Gotham needs  _ somebody.  _ Gotham will crumble without an extra set of hands to hold it together, the politicians are corrupt, the criminals are all borderline  _ supervillains  _ and genuine good people are few and far between -- most of them already in Dick’s inner circle.

And Dick needs Gotham. Gotham is his  _ home _ — not originally, his home as a boy was in the circus, traveling all over America, witnessing all walks of life. That -- that was fun, but it wasn’t  _ Gotham.  _

Gotham is, objectively, a terrible city. The crime rate is one of the worst in the United States. Dick couldn’t walk down the  _ street  _ by himself without running to risk of being mugged, or stabbed or shot. Not to mention the abnormally large amount of villains that plague the city — Two-Face, Joker, Bane, Scarecrow, Riddler, Penguin — you get the point. It’s strange to think about how so many seemingly normal civilians are capable of such evil — and why they all decided Gotham was their city to wreak havoc on.

But, even with this in mind, Gotham has a special place in Dick’s heart. It’s kind of like rewatching a show you loved as a child and realizing it’s not everything you thought it was. The magic of the city had long since broken for him, up to the point where he’d needed to move away entirely -- but he’ll always look at the overgrown flora and smog-filled skies with some semblance of warmth inside him. And he’ll always feel a need to protect this city from the vermin that crawl out of the shadows and sink their claws into it.

Of course, you can’t have a hundred villains running around without at least  _ one  _ hero to balance it out. Bruce Wayne was a noble man for attempting to tackle the crime plaguing the city, even if his methods — i.e., dressing up as a bat and jumping off rooftops — were a bit unorthodox. Dick respected that immensely. But, it’s nearly impossible to save all of Gotham by himself, and that’s where Robin comes in.

Dick doesn’t really believe in fate, and he never really has, but he knows that being in Gotham, under the same tent as _ Bruce Wayne  _ the same night of his parents’ death, is  _ not _ a coincidence. If it had been, say, Baton Rouge where the tragedy had occurred, in front of a bunch of random onlookers just looking for a nice show, Dick’s life would be much different. He’d be put into the foster system, and probably stay there until he was 18. He’d never have met Bruce, or Jason or Tim -- He’d never be Robin, or a Teen Titan, never meet Babs, Kory, Wally, Roy…

He shivered a bit at the thought. These were the people that shaped his entire life, the things that made him who he was. _ Everything happens for a reason, _ Dick likes to think, and if he could go back to that day and do it all over again -- he would.

He’s reluctantly pulled out of his musings by the sound of light footsteps coming closer. He closes his eyes in anticipation, swallowing down his worries. This would be the first time anyone saw him… like  _ this,  _ in this suit, and he was nervous. What would they all think of him? What would  _ he  _ think? 

He turns around to face the man just a few meters away, and he can’t help but imagine how his face must look.  _ Like a sad, lost puppy dog in the rain. _

Alfred stares at him, a certain sadness etched into his features that Dick hasn’t seen since the funeral. Alfred was one of the strongest men he’s ever met, and, like Bruce, he could mask his emotions well. But, Bruce was like a son to him, the man he’d raised since he was just a little kid. Sometimes, it was simply impossible to keep that mask up. Dick can only imagine the kind of pain Alfred’s going through.

Alfred’s eyes span from his boots up to his eyes, taking in the sight.

“It suits you.” He eventually says, and Dick doesn’t need to look at him, because they both know it’s a bold-faced lie. This isn't Dick’s suit. Batman doesn’t belong to Dick, Dick is not Batman.

Dick is Nightwing, he’s a quippy acrobat, Blüdhaven’s favorite son. He’s not held down by his title, he’s set free. He’s a Titan, he’s 100% unapologetically  _ Dick Grayson _ and he’s  _ loving _ it.

He doesn’t respond to Alfred at first, choosing instead to focus on his leather gloves. They’re nothing like his Nightwing suit, no bright colors, no finger stripes. It’s ugly, it’s dull, Dick wouldn’t wear it in a million years, only he  _ is  _ wearing it because he  _ has to wear it. _

The gloves are too big for him. They’re for Bruce’s hands, not his.

This suit is for Bruce, but now Bruce is  _ dead  _ and how is Dick repaying him for his kindness, his fatherhood? By desecrating his legacy, his entire reason for  _ being.  _ Looking at himself in this cowl — he may as well have just gone to Bruce’s grave and destroyed it.

For a moment, he’s disgusted with himself, and just wants to rip this suit off and go back to Blüdhaven. It’s not a great city, but it’s comforting, like a safety net whenever he jumps. 

The moment passes as quickly as it arrived. This isn’t for fun. There are no more safety nets. This is an  _ obligation,  _ he needs to do this for Gotham’s sake, for Bruce’s sake.

He eventually clears his throat and gives the butler a wry smile. “Thanks.” He responds, voice slightly hoarse from lack of use. He hasn’t really spoken much since the news broke.

Alfred nods curtly and turns away, looking at the computer.

Dick swallowed thickly. “Is… Robin going to be joining us?”

Alfred shot him a glance, eyes full of an emotion Dick couldn’t quite make out.

“Robin… Master Drake has already left.”

Dick’s lips tug downwards, his heart cracking for his little brother. Tim couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that Bruce was dead. He was still stuck in phase one of the grieving process: denial. Tim still fervently believed Bruce was alive, somehow, somewhere, and he told Dick he would stop at  _ nothing  _ to bring him home. Even going as far as to denounce Dick, call him naive and foolish for ‘choosing to believe’ that Bruce was dead.

Dick could hardly blame him. Dick also had that initial moment of disbelief -- like it  _ couldn’t  _ be possible, Bruce was invincible. But it had rubbed off rather quickly, and the heartbreak nestled its way into him. Tim hadn’t gotten to that point yet, and if Dick isn’t there for him when the time eventually comes, he’ll never forgive himself for it.

“Well,” Dick clears his throat slightly. “I guess Batman is Robin-less tonight.”

Alfred nods, but Dick knows he had more to say. A few seconds later, he’s proven right.

“You know… Master Damian is available tonight.”

Dick frowns.  _ Damian Wayne? Bruce’s brat kid? _

He makes a contemplative noise and shrugs. It’s not a terrible idea, Dick hasn’t seen much of the kid, but he knows that he’s skilled. He’s also incredibly annoying, and Dick still holds a bit of a grudge from his near-fatal encounter with Tim. He  _ hates  _ anybody that tries to hurt his brothers, but Damian’s still young, and from what he’s gathered, his childhood wasn’t exactly pleasant. It’s not a good excuse in Dick’s eyes, but it’s reason enough not to just kick him out entirely.

“Not tonight.” He finally decides on. “But maybe in the future.”

Alfred actually smiles a bit, clearly satisfied with the answer. It leads Dick to wonder how much Alfred knows of the kid, and how close they’ve gotten. He decides to save that conversation for later.

He reaches for his cowl and bites his lip. It’s his first time putting it on.The cowl feels too heavy in his hands, it’s nothing like Nightwing’s domino mask, perfectly crafted for his face, something that just  _ fits.  _ It’s clunky, he’s not used to it. Alfred stares, waiting for the inevitable moment where Dick fully embodies the Batman, and it’s magical and astonishing and--

And he puts it on.

It smells musty.

Alfred smiles softly, taking a step closer. “It looks good on you.”

Dick nods absently, looking at himself in the mirror. He flashes a smile, just to see what it looks like. It’s weird -- which is what he expects. Dick can count the number of times Bruce has smiled under this mask on one hand. 

He takes a sobering breath and looks over at Alfred. “It’s a little big.”

In the back of his head, he knows he’s stalling. Anything to avoid taking that first step into the brisk Gotham air. 

Alfred shoots him a small smile. He can read Dick like a book, and Dick knows it. “I’ll be sure to adjust it when you get back. For now...” He gestures to the cave’s exit. Dick curses in his head, why is Alfred so damn smart?

Dick nods and turns away, running a hand over his belt to make sure he has everything he needs. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before going to the Batmobile, running a hand over the sleek hood.  _ Bruce was always one for the theatrics, _ he muses.

Once he’s inside, he gets a little overwhelmed. He’s never been on this side of the Batmobile, and looking around, it's a  _ lot  _ to take in.

_ “Not to worry.”  _ Alfred hums from the comms, sensing his reluctance.  _ “I’ll guide you through the basics.” _

Dick can’t help the small smile that forms on his face. “You’re the best, Alfie.”

It takes a few minutes, but soon enough, he’s out on the streets. Alfred’s still in his ear, guiding him though it. The basics of controlling it, he realizes, are no more complex than a stickshift. The only thing that separates it are the copious amount of unlabeled buttons and gadgets presented to the driver.

“Man,” he muttered, looking at the dashboard. “You gotta coach me through all these buttons.”

“Shall I pull out the manual?” Alfred smiles, and it makes Dick laugh, just a little, but it’s genuine.

  
And right then and there, looking out into the open sky, the lights of the city glimmering like a million stars, with the smallest hint of a smile on his face, he came to a decision. Dick Grayson vows, as long as it was  _ him  _ under that cowl, protecting Gotham  _ his  _ way, the city would run under justice, not vengeance.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @bratwonders


End file.
